Spells for the Spirit
by ShadefortheSoul
Summary: Young Grimoire Valentine leaves the deteriorating family estate with the burning need to prove himself worthy to the family patriarch. He travels to Midgar and dreams of working for Shin-Ra, aspiring to be a pioneer of innovation. Between company politics, a flirtatious co-worker, and being on his own for the first time in the big city, he had no idea what he signed up for...
1. The Valentine Name

Grimoire straightened up as piercing crimson eyes scrutinized over his appearance. His grandfather maintained an imposing figure and his aged face still resembled a chiseled statue, despite the sagging skin and peppering hair retreating from his forehead. The great and terrible curse for the patriarchs of the Valentine family meant that one would always exude an air of predatory intimidation. Or, at least, it had. Grimoire did his best to mirror that smoldering presence, but it never failed to look more like an uncomfortable young man had a stick up his rectum.

The old man's fingers nit-picked at minute details: a stray strand of hair here and there, a loose string on the hem of his mantle, a wrinkle in his shirt. The boy was nearly a foot shorter than he, but his hair was slicked back with a right and proper grease and shone quite nicely. His attire had been dyed a deep black in the finest and durable material money could buy. No Valentine would enter the public eye without refinement and Godric Valentine intended to maintain the clan's reputation and respect beyond the grave. When the aged man was finally satisfied he nodded gravely at his grandson's appearance. "Shame not our family name, lad," he growled passed his parchment-thin lips. The young man eagerly thrust his right fist to cross his chest and focused his crimson eyes on those of his kin, "I would rather perish, sir."

The patriarch chuckled, "See that you do, son of my son. If this clan's estate is to be left in your care, I expect nothing less than success in Midgar." His meaty flanges brushed against a small leather bag and pressed it into the seventeen-year-old's hands. "This contains your provisions for the journey, a purse for living expenses, and proper documentation of our fine pedigree. Do be sure to present those to those mutts at Shin-Ra and put that new money lot in their place. I hate to see the vermin strutting around like Golden Chocobos when they are no better than unsightly Headbombers."

There was nothing particularly impressive about his grandson, Godric was painfully aware of that fact. He certainly had the Valentine crimson eyes, which proved his origins themselves. However, the lad had minimal muscle definition and stood only a few inches above five feet; a mere sapling in the mighty grove of Valentine men. The mountain of a man reached for Grimoire and the teenager restrained himself from cringing when his grandfather pinched his arms. "I have faith that you will grow into the Valentine stature, but for now do put on some more muscle, lad. You are a twig, but even plantlets aspire for the greatness of solid oak!"

"Yessir," Grimoire exhaled, trying not to let on that the old man was actually harming him. This sort of encounter was typical for the two of them. Grimoire's body bore more bruises than he could count. His facial hair was painfully patchy and haphazardly, so he kept clean-shaven. By the time his grandfather – and his father after that – was his age, they had reached surpassed six feet in height and full and impressive beards. Grimoire dreaded that he may never fulfill their expectations. In the meantime, he hoped and dealt with the Valentine men in a more eloquent manner: fancy and polite words. "I ought to depart if I want to be punctual for this appointment, sir." Godric huffed, but acknowledge that the boy was correct and clapped his grandson on the shoulder. "Right you are! Go forth and trounce those ill-mannered city folk, boy."

"Of course, sir," Grimoire muttered as he turned toward the door to conceal his pained expression and escaped out to the carriage. It was dark, like most things in the manor, with Golden Chocobos clad in black armor so they would not appear so bright and as Godric would say with a sneer, "Cheerful." Once inside he regained his composure and waved to the giant in the doorway. "Good health while I am away, sir. Farewell." All Grimoire saw was his grandfather smile ever so slightly and nod in the general direction of his grandchild before he closed the curtain and signaled the driver. As soon as the Valentine manor disappeared behind him, he finally felt safe from his omniscient patriarch. Grimoire collapsed in his seat and nursed the shoulder Godric had tried to wrench from his body. Surely, if he could survive the abuse of his predecessor, surely he could survive Shin-Ra Corporation.


	2. Blinding Lights and Finding Solace

Grimoire must have dozed off – of which his grandfather would have heavily disapproved – because he awoke the unfamiliar sounds of the urban landscape as he fell off the bench and onto the floor of the vehicle. The teen rubbed his cheek where he had landed and climbed back up to his seat. He could not guess what wonders created such… Loud and quite frankly, obnoxious noises, but he would not admit that he missed the sounds of chirping crickets or night owls. The teenager would not taint the taste of freedom with the bittersweet flavor of homesickness, so he decided that the racket was good and peeled back the curtain on the carriage to unveil the city of Midgar.

He was immediately blinded by the spectrum of lights that erupted from windows, glowing signs, and strange vehicles. Metal beasts growled and hissed as the carriage passed, drivers cursed as they were caught behind his low-tech transportation, and people stared at this city-struck youth as he stuck his entire torso out the window to gawk at the sights. After several blocks, Grimoire realized that he must look like a fool and withdrew himself back into the inner sanctum of the carriage. With his slender fingers, he snatched up a mirror from his luggage and scanned himself for imperfections. His hair had gone completed awry when he lied on the bench to rest, so he ran his hands over this forehead and raked back his raven hair into an expertly quaffed style. He loathed the feel of hair grease in his hands, but his grandfather insisted it look dapper and worthy of a man with Valentine breeding. His cloak had gone eschew and quite wrinkled from the trip. He would have to be sure to change into proper business attire before calling upon the new boss at Shin-Ra.

The driver brought the carriage to a halt and the Chocobos warked to announce the arrival to passers-by. The driver hopped off the front of the vehicle and tottered over to the door to open it. With a slight bob, he swung it open and lowered his head slightly. "This is where I leave you, sir. I'll be sure to stay until you enter the building, but the Head of the House ordered me to report back immediately once you arrived."

Grimoire threw back his shoulders and held his head high as he descended from the carriage with his leather bag in hand. "Of course, do give him my best," the seventeen year old did in his deepest voice. That was one good thing about his aging, he discovered. If nothing else, his voice dropped enough so that he could impersonate an impressive tone. The manservant smiled and wished him luck and he whistled for the Chocobos to move. One of them stomped and turned its head around to look at Grimoire with its huge eyes and warked its disapproval at leaving one of their own behind. The young Valentine urged the Chocobo on, "It's okay," he whispered. "Go on!" Gerard tugged at the reins and prodded the giant bird to starting walking, and in its confusion blinked at Grimoire, but started down the street all them same.

Grimoire watched them leave and then turned to face the man-made monstrosity that towered over him. "Well," he sighed, as he began to climb the stairs to the entrance. "Here goes nothing."

The interior was just as impressive as the outside. Grey marble floors, a grand staircase with violet runners on either side him, and an impressive banner on the wall of the balcony above. He approached the right side stairs, as it appears those were the ones meant to be used to go to the loft above, while its counterpart was for those leaving the building. Grimoire wanted to avoid any mistakes possible, so he glided up to the next floor with the most regal posture he could muster. When he got up to the top, he noticed what appeared to be an information desk in the center and approached it with intention. A young woman about his age and bright honey-colored eyes smiled as he came close. She wore a well-pressed uniform and wore her hair away from her face, Grimoire noticed. "Hello, sir. Welcome to Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. How may I help you?"

Grimoire blinked, caught off-guard by the sound of a high-pitched female voice. He hadn't heard one of those… Ever. Even the women in the Valentine family had deeper voices, or spoke gently and quietly; never had words attacked his eardrums so violently. The young woman stared at him expectantly, and then realized perhaps something was wrong. "Sir?" she began. However, Grimoire regained himself and shook his head slightly. "My apologies, madam. Do you know where I should go to speak to someone from the research department?"

The ginger beamed, "That would be on the 50th floor. If you turn away from this desk and head straight for those doors right there…" She pointed to a pair of chrome doors with a man standing by them. "Yes, the doors where Mr. Crescent is standing. If you follow him into that elevator, just press the button with the number '50' and take a left once you get off, it should be the first door to your right."

Grimoire gave her his thanks and headed for the elevator. The doors opened and allowed the two men inside. His crimson eyes glanced around the small room and realized that the Mr. Crescent to which the receptionist had referred was facing toward the doors that had just closed on them. Grimoire circled back around to do the same and found a large panel with numbers painted on a large group of disks. He went to press the "50," when he realized it was already glowing. "It looks like we're headed to the same place, kid," the man said with a smirk. "Aramis Crescent," he said introducing himself and offering Grimoire his hand to shake. "I work for the Research Division. What brings you here?"

The young Valentine took Aramis' hand and gave it a squeeze, "Grimoire Valentine," he offered back and a cordial nod. "I want to work here to help bring this world into the future." Aramis laughed heartily. "I'm afraid the future will continue on with or without us, kid. The real question is: What are you going to do to _change _it?" Grimoire paused and considered that for a moment. Damn, how_ was_ he going to change it? He hadn't the slightest clue. Aramis' dark eyes twinkled, "Ah, no worries, kid. Most people don't know yet, that's why we're here!" He ran his spidery fingers through his curly mop of auburn hair, "But I'm not the one you have to worry about, it's Dr. Solace you've got to convince you've got something to offer."

Grimoire exhaled with slight relief that he had not completely blown it without having reaching the 50th floor yet. "Dr. Solace?" the teen repeated. "What's he like?" Grimoire hoped this stranger would offer some sort of wisdom, even if he was probably only a few years older and he did not like how this Crescent guy called him "kid." Then again, most people mistook him for someone younger due to his height.

Aramis grinned knowingly, "Ah, Dr. Solace is the brains of the operation. Not a talker, mind you, but you'll be expected to catch on pretty quickly around here if you want to stay longer than most of the hopefuls that pass through here." He rocked back and forth on his heels, making his curls bounce up and down. He glanced down at Grimoire, "But hey, if you last more than a week, you'll be a shoe in!"

Grimoire blinked, "A week?" There was a long silence, "That's how long people last around here?" He could feel the dread seeping into his skin. How shameful it would be to return to the manor after only seven days? His grandfather would disown him, he just knew it. Aramis saw the look of despair etched on the teen's face. "Hey, no worries… 'Grim-war,' was it?" Grimoire nodded and Aramis chuckled, "With an interesting name like that, maybe you've what it takes to survive around here."

The doors finally opened to deposit the two men on the 50th floor. Aramis leaned his head toward the right, "I've got to go that way, but good luck with Dr. Solace, Grim-war Valentine," and with a wave, he was gone down the hallway.

Grimoire faced the opposite direction toward the department door and donned his best business face. He was not about to let some man bully him out of this place. Gripping his bag tightly, Grimoire pushed open the entrance to the Research Department. A bespectacled woman noticed him and glanced in his general direction, "Yes?" she muttered, as she scratched some notes furiously onto a pad of paper.

The heir to the Valentine house straightened, to make himself appear taller than his 5'6" inches. In his best impression of his grandfather, he said, "I'm here to discuss employment here with Dr. Solace." Nothing happened. The silence stretched uncomfortably for Grimoire, but he made sure not to let it show. However, after what seemed like a lifetime, he opened his mouth again to speak. "I would like to - "

"I'm busy, kid," the woman snapped. "Can you not see that? Come back tomorrow." Grimoire bristled, "I'm not leaving until I've spoken to Dr. Solace," he proclaimed.

The blonde woman glared green daggers at him, threw back her chair, and stood right in front of him. Grimoire did his best to conceal his glee that he was taller than this tiny woman and stood his ground, despite the fact that her eyes were casting curses at him. "You've spoken to her," the woman growled. "And she told you she's _busy_. Come back tomorrow or you'll wish you hadn't come here at all."

Grimoire's crimson eyes widened, "… You?" he breathed. "You're Dr. Solace?"

Her green eyes rolled in their sockets, "You obviously don't know a damn thing about this department. Yes, I'm Dr. Trisha Solace, Head of Research for the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. Now get out of my office!"

Grimoire swung his leg around and turned a full one-hundred and eighty degrees. "My apologies, madam, I'll be back tomorrow around 14:00." Dr. Solace sat herself down at her desk, "Make that 16:00, unless you want to wait two hours. And bring me a coffee to apologize for being such a sexist piglet." The youth nodded, "Of course, Dr. Solace," but dared not look back at her as he closed the door behind him.

Trisha readjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and chortled quietly to herself. "Oh, I doubt I'll be seeing you again."


	3. Advice from Aramis

The sound of hysterical laughter wafted out from down the hallway to greeted Grimoire on the other side of Dr. Trisha Solace's door. The young man whipped his head around to see Aramis bent over in a nearby doorway, gasping for air with a gigantic grin on his face. Grimoire glared at him, "You knew that would happen and you let me go in there anyway," he accused his new acquaintance.

The goateed man straightened himself up and wiped away a few tears from his eyes, "You!" Aramis continued to chuckled, despite his best efforts, "That was priceless, the best one I've heard in months!"

This is not the afternoon that Grimoire had planned. He frowned and shuffled away from Dr. Solace's door, approaching where Aramis loomed down the hall. "That's entertaining to you?"

Aramis' dark eyes twinkled with a dash of mischief, "Oh, don't be like that. I couldn't spill the beans and give you an unfair advantage over the rest of the poor suckers who try to waltz in here like it's just any job. Most people come up here just as oblivious as you, experience _THAT_," he motioned toward the room from which Grimoire had retreated, "and never show their faces here again."

The young Valentine heir raised an eyebrow over his crimson eyes. He had never been accosted by a tiny blonde like that before, but unfortunately that encounter was not the worst he had experienced. Grimoire could think of several dozen instances in which his family had been more abrasive than Dr. Trisha Solace. At this point, the initial shock had ended "Never?" he repeated, "After a little thing like that?"

Aramis, too, had ceased his laughter and regained his composure. "Well, yes. Trisha is Head of Research. After being put in their place by what would have been their immediate supervisor, most just accept that this isn't the place for them and move on." He smirked and leaned against the wall with his shoulder, crossing his arms on his chest, "Of course, there are those sick bastards that do come back for another thrashing and a few of them even end up in the Shin-Ra Research Division."

Grimoire pondered a moment and looked directly at Aramis with a sense of purpose, "What kind of coffee does Dr. Solace like?" Aramis Crescent chuckled again, "Kid, Trisha _hates_ coffee. She says it messes with her 'facilities' and the like."

A hand found its way onto Grimoire's head and scratched it in confusion. "So if I returned tomorrow with a cup of coffee like she told me…?"

"You, sir, would get brownie points for showing up again, but ultimately you would have to suffer through the rest of the week before she decided to keep you around or not. That is, if you don't duck out of here first."

There was a pause and the young man tugged at his cloak as he headed for the elevator, "I will see you tomorrow," he vowed as he passed the researcher to make his exit. Aramis called after him, "Hey, Grimoire!" The raven-haired youth turned his head to gazed back at him.

Aramis gave him a friendly smile, "I look forward to it." The ends of Grimoire's lips pulled upward, despite the fact that this man had fed him to the wolf that was Dr. Solace. "Oh, and one more thing: She likes peppermint tea."

"Thanks," he replied with a nod and genuine gratitude, and entered the chrome box that would lower him back down to the streets of Midgar.

"… Helping out a candidate, Aramis?" a voice muttered from behind, as he waved to Grimoire as he disappeared. The twenty-two-year-old jumped, "Trisha, don't DO that!"

The blonde woman's lips thinned as they stretched into a downward curve. "You don't usually offer the candidates advice." She narrowed her emerald eyes at him suspiciously and a swift finger jabbed at her subordinate's ribcage, "Why now?"

Aramis winced slightly from the pain and shrugged, "Well, he didn't try to punch me for being the complete ass that I am. He's also obviously not from around here. He dresses like my grandfather."

"I suppose if that's something to which one pays attention," Trisha sighed with disinterest. "Don't think that I will hire him simply because you've taken him under your wing, though."

The man bowed dramatically, "Of course not, my lady. I only wish to serve." His facetiousness was met with eye-rolling. "Cut the crap and get back to work. Clyde and Avira have been looking for you. If you haven't been with them all afternoon, what do I pay you for?"

"For my fiendish good looks, naturally," Aramis flashed his teeth sheepishly as he sidled away from her and toward the labs further down the hall. Trisha scoffed, but let him go. It wasn't worth the effort to shout at him down the corridor. Reaching out her hand, she opened the door to her office and stepped back inside and with the weight of the endless possibilities that tomorrow held in her mind, clicked the door shut behind her.


End file.
